


The Long Road

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: Set after El Camino. You can't handle never seeing Jesse again so you go after him.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Original Female Character(s), Jesse Pinkman/Reader, Jesse Pinkman/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one I've been holding on to. I'm almost finished with part 2 so I hope it doesn't sit in limbo for too long.

There’s lights on inside of the house. The yellow glow in the darkness pulsates a feeling of warmth across the snow and the icy air. You hear laughter coming from inside and your hand hovers over the wooden door. For the first time, you’re truly questioning yourself and the decision you made to be standing here on his doorstep. Maybe it’s a mistake.

It’s been over two years since Jesse disappeared again and you just haven’t been able to let him go. The letter that was post marked from Mexico City a few weeks after you’d last seen him was kept in a false bottom drawer of your nightstand. You had reread it almost every; apologies and reassurance that he was going to be okay. Don’t worry about him. Take care of yourself. He’ll miss you. And one night you just couldn’t take it anymore.

Jesse is someone special to you. _Friend_ doesn’t feel like an adequate word, but in reality, that’s all you were. Friends.

You had met during your brief employment at the strip club as a server. He had come in a more than one occasion with his buddies. The first couple of times they’d been your typical, rowdy, broke, young kids. They were loud and barely tipped and the girls didn’t particularly like them. Then suddenly, they were high rollers being even louder than before, but tossing out hundred-dollar bills like it was Monopoly money.

Jesse had come up to the bar while you were gathering drinks and started a conversation. A week later he gave you a ride home and the rest was history. He wasn’t exactly quiet about his operation back then in the early days, but it didn’t bother you as much as it maybe should have. In this day and age, drugs go around like candy. It seems like someone is always on something and you aren’t one to make judgments.

You two grew close quickly. He was charming and funny and there was an innocence in his eyes that, combined with the amount of heart he had, just made you want to hold onto him and keep him safe. You aren’t entirely sure what he saw in you; maybe just stability, maybe a solid friend, someone safe to run to. Whatever it was, you were happy to have him and always welcomed him, no matter how bad things got.

Despite the attraction that developed, you’d only ever been friends. You realized your pull to him first. There was a desire to kiss his pain away and a tension you felt when he looked into your eyes. You craved his presence and his smile. His messages gave you old school butterflies. But he was always unavailable in some way. He was either involved with another woman or too _involved_ with his product and emotionally unstable. And when he finally realized his attraction to you and the fact that he wanted to be with you, things were bad. Really bad. Even though he wanted to, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself entangle you even more than you were.

Then he vanished. No one heard from him, no one saw him, no one could find him. He was just gone. For months. You tried not to worry, tried to let him go. You’d started a new job. You moved apartments. You _tried_ , but you never stopped thinking about him. And then you got the call from Skinny Pete in the middle of the night.

You had rushed to his house, listening to the news on the way. Jesse, _your_ Jesse, had been kept in a cage? Tortured? You found yourself crying by the time you pulled in the drive and nearly fell to the floor when they showed you that he was alive and sleeping. As much as you wanted to reach out to him, to lay next to him, you let him be for the night.

He woke up the next morning in a panic. You heard the scuffling of the blinds and you and the boys rushed into his room. He’d pulled a gun on you all and while the boys did what might have been the smart thing, darted back and hid behind the wall, you froze in front of him.

“Jesse,” you called to him gently. His eyes were empty and you honestly weren’t sure if he actually saw you in front of him. “It’s me.” There was a crack in your voice full of pain. His eyes cleared and his jaw trembled as he slowly lowered the gun. He slumped down against the wall, putting the gun on a shelf and looking down into his lap. You tried so hard not to cry. You crouched down next to him, wanting so badly to wrap your arms around him. Something inside of you told you it would be a bad idea, so instead you simply stayed by his side, just as you always had.

The reunion was short lived. A lojack in his car meant quick getaway plans and hasty goodbyes. You and Skinny went to leave him with Badger’s car, but he’d called your name, grabbed your arm to keep you for just a moment more.

“Don’t… don’t worry about me,” he whispered, pulling you close enough to press his forehead into yours. You breathed in heavily, trying to commit his face, his touch to your memory.

“I’ll always worry about you Jesse. It’s what I do.” It was a sad smile that came to his lips, but a smile nonetheless.

“As long as they’re still looking for me that means I’m alright.” Your hands were at his waist, under his coat, holding gently onto him both afraid you’d hurt him and afraid to let go.

“You have to get going,” you reminded him even if you didn’t want to. He clenched up and grimaced before giving into the fact he had to leave you behind. A hard press of his lips to your forehead and he reluctantly pulled away from you.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched his face in the car mirror get smaller and disappear. You sobbed uncontrollably that night back in your apartment. You mourned.

And still you couldn’t let him go. It took two years to find him. Two years of saving every penny you could, of searching, of traveling, of making questionable and illegal choices along the way to get where you needed to be; on his doorstep, late at night with a new name and a new life just hoping he’d let you back into his.

The knock of your fist on the heavy wooden door is dulled by your thick, wooly gloves. The pound of your heart in your chest feels louder than it did. There’s a pause in the socialization instead the house though, so it must have been enough. You wait for what feels like an eternity for the door to open and when it finally does, you have to take one more shaky breath before looking up from your feet.

The smile that was on his face drops off as soon as he sees your face. Your hair is longer than he’s used to and you’re sure your cheeks are rosy from the cold air. You’re not wearing makeup, but wearing a fluffy hat that, when pulled down, might conceal your face slightly. None of it matters though. He knows your face, would be able to tell it was you even if you’d been beaten to a pulp. The moment realization dawns on him, he brings the door closer to his side, not letting open so wide that the people inside might see you.

“What are you-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“My name is Ashley Aarons,” you tell him, just how you had rehearsed it in your mind for months. The new name still feels a little fuzzy on your tongue. “I’m new to the neighborhood and wanted to introduce myself.” He seems dumbstruck, confused and you wonder if he thinks he’s made an error in recognizing you. You quickly shove your hand into your pocket and fumble to produce a torn, crumpled piece of paper. “Here’s my number,” you say, extending it out towards him and you realize your hand is shaking. He takes it, but doesn’t even look at it. “Give me a call when you…” You glance to the door as if you can see through it to his guests. “When you have some time. If you want.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, jaw still hanging open and eyes blinking as though he’s double checking what he’s seeing in front of him. “I’ll do that.” You nod and back away off his porch, turning to leave. “Hey!” he calls. You turn to look over your shoulder at him and you have this mental image of running up and into his arms. You focus on keeping your feet planted where they are. “Do you need a ride?” He pauses putting emphasize on the next question. “Are you okay?” For the first time in two years, a genuine smile spreads over your lips.

“I am now.”


	2. Part Two

Your phone rings early the next morning, before the sun has even had proper time to get set in the sky. The caller ID reads a number that you know isn’t his. You’d done your research on him before approaching. You had his cell number. This isn’t it.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. There’s a long silence on the other end.

“Is this… Ashley Adams?” It’s Jesse’s voice for sure and you smile at him trying to recall the name you’d given.

“Aarons,” you correct him. “Ashley Aarons.”

“Right.” Another short pause. “This is Paul Driscoll. Your uhh, neighbor, I guess.” You’re not sure whether you want to laugh or cry at the classic sound of his voice. It fills you with a warmth that has been absent in you for far too long.

“Are you on a secure line?” Not the most tactful way to phrase the question, but your patience is running low and frankly, for what you both paid to get here, it shouldn’t matter if it was a secure line or not.

“Payphone,” he confirms. “About three miles outside of town by a gas station. You?”

“Burner phone.” You sit down on your cheap hotel bed and _finally_ feel yourself relax.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snaps. “What the fuck are you doing here? Are you okay?” You suspect if the payphone wasn’t bolted to the ground, he’d probably be pacing like mad right now. You can just picture him spinning in circles in the booth, free hand swinging around wildly. Honestly, you’re having a hard time not laughing in sheer relief. It’s been years you’ve been trying to get to him and you’re finally hearing him. You’ve seen him. You’re _talking_ to him. “I didn’t sleep last night! I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes and I’m going out of my mind!” It’s such a foreign thing to hear Jesse mention work. It just reminds you that he has a life now. A real one. “Are you fucking okay or not?”

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m alright, I promise.” It’s not even him and his new life he’s worried about unraveling right now. His only concern is _you_ and that makes you feel like you’re floating. You’ve never been more alright than you are right now.

“And what the hell kind of name is Ashley Aarons?” The laugh bubbles out. Out of all the questions he has tumbling through his head, that’s one of his firsts?

“I didn’t pick it!” you defend, stopping yourself from flopping back on the bed like a teenage girl. “I pissed off the vacuum guy, alright?” You expect a chuckle or maybe a scoff, anything. Instead he goes silent for a moment.

“You went to the vacuum guy?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t find you unless I was clean.” You state is like it’s obvious because to you it is, but Jesse hadn’t fully realized what you being here meant or what it took to get you here. The air shifts around you.

“Why did you need to find me?” The question hits you hard and sharp. What the hell kind of answer is there to that question?

“Jesse, I…” Words fail you, but he waits on the other end. “I just had to see you.” The silence on the other end is painful. Did you make a mistake? “Can I… Can I see you?” Your words tremble and there’s a desperation in them. You’ve never been one to beg, but after everything you’d gone through to get to him, to may actually kill you if he said no.

“Meet me at my place in twenty minutes,” he finally says, easing the squeeze around your chest for the moment at least.

“What about work?” He scoffs on the other end.

“I got vacation time. They’ll fucking live.”

—

Standing at his front door the second time is somehow even more daunting than the first. His door swings open much faster and he’s pulling you into his living room before you even have a chance to say hello. He closes the door and puts his eye up to the peephole, presumably checking for anyone following you.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” he asks when he looks back to you.

“No,” you assure him. “Kind of the whole point of the vacuum asshole, but honestly I lost contact with everyone over a year ago anyways.”

“How did you find me?” His bafflement is shown in a scrunched expression and you think back, trying to come up with a simple, easy answer.

“By not sleeping for two years?” is the best you can do. His face evens out and he motions to the couch next to you.

“Have a seat,” he offers. “I can go make us some coffee.”

“You drink coffee now?” He cracks a smile at you.

“Yeah well, I learned drinking beer this early is frowned upon by upstanding people so coffee it is.” You both chuckle and you nod to him, accepting his offer. You carefully move around to the front of the couch as he walked towards what you assume to be the kitchen. “You still take it the same way?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, surprised and humbled that he remembers how you like your coffee.

Jesse’s home is something you hadn’t expected. It’s large, but modest and made to look and feel like a log cabin. His furniture is covered in a soft brown leather placed around a glass coffee table in front of a working fireplace that fills the room with a warm glow. You’re able to shake the cold out of your bones and shed your thick coat, draping it over the armrest next to you.

If his house is anything to judge by, Jesse has done damn good for himself. While that makes you feel happy and proud even, there’s a small part of you that fills with fear. Good house, a job, friends… what if he doesn’t want you in his life anymore? What if all you do is ruin what he has?

Jesse interrupts your thoughts, coming back into the room and hands you a white mug with Alaskan mountains painted on the side. You smile up at him and gently blow into the mug as he sits down next to you and drinks from his own cup. He shifts to bring his leg up onto the couch and face you, throwing one of his arms over the back of the couch.

“Never thought I’d see you in a white cable knit sweater,” you tease, reaching over to pluck at the sleeve of his attire. He looks down at it and laughs.

“Yeah, I’m wearing all kinda goofy shit now.” He leans in and lowers his voice just a little. “You should see me in the hat with the fucking earmuffs.” You can’t help but laugh. You have no doubt that he owns such a hat nowadays and the idea of him wearing it is just so wholesome and humorous.

“You look good,” you tell him when the chuckling dies down. He doesn’t say much, but makes a noncommittal noise. Your hand reaches out to him without thinking, your thumb brushing the skin above his eye where a faint scar dips into his eyebrow. Your fingers trace down to the more prominent scar on his cheek and you almost melt into his couch when he leans his face into the palm of your hand and closes his eyes.

“Story goes I used to box in college,” he shares. “The guys joke I must not have been very good if I couldn’t protect my face.” He turns his face and presses his lips to the heel of your palm.

“You _would_ make a shitty boxer,” you agree lightheartedly, pulling a smile to his face. He leans away from you and steals the mug out of your hands, reaching to place both cups on the coffee table before coming back to you, sitting just a little bit closer.

“So you’re telling me,” he starts in a more serious tone. “That you took two years, left everything, and came all the way out here to bumfuck Alaska to find _me_?” The disbelief, the reluctance to accept there’s not some hidden meaning that he’s missing is just so innocent that all you can do is nod. “Why?”

“Jesse,” you sigh. The sound of his name on your tongue has him leaning towards you, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck and pull your forehead to his. “Do you really have to ask?” you whisper. Your own hands running up the front of his sweater, looking for something to hold onto.

Your name is a soft murmur from his lips before he’s tilting his head and your eyes are fluttering shut. You both lean into the kiss, leveraging yourselves on your hips and legs to lift up closer to one another. It’s a hard, needy kiss with your fingers twisting into the knitted fabric on his chest and both his hands lifting to hold your face carefully as though you might disappear if he held on too tightly.

Heart so full that your chest feels heavy and constricted, you open your mouth beneath his for air. While he allows you to break for just that moment, he comes back with a heated passion that you’re all too happy to return. His arms slip down around your waist, pulling you across the small bit of couch left remaining between you and nearly onto his lap.

When you finally pull away from each other, he looks up at you with something you haven’t seen from him in years. Hope.

“You have a place yet?” he asks, breathing heavily and you can tell by the way his eyes keep darting to your lips that he’s having a hard time focusing. You shake your head.

“Not yet.”

“Good. You can stay here.” His fingers at your back graze your skin where your shirt shifted up and a shiver goes through your spine. He wants you. All your worrying was for nothing.

“Won’t your friends ask questions?” He shrugs.

“Probably.” A hand grips behind your thigh, tugging. You follow his pull and let him lift that thigh over his hips so that you’re straddling him as he leans onto the couch back. “Just gotta get our stories straight.” A cocky smile sits on his lips that you hadn’t realized you missed so badly. “Means we should get reacquainted, Ms. Adams.” He leans up to kiss you again, but you pull away.

“Aarons,” you correct him again. He shakes his head at you and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” he says. “C’mere.”

You can worry about names later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it! Just imagine Jesse living a happy, criminal free life in Alaska. It gives me the warm fuzzies everywhere. Anyways… I hope you enjoyed! Throw kudos and comment to let me know!
> 
> Feeling super sweet and generous? Buy me a coffee!  
> https://ko-fi.com/writerashley
> 
> Keep up with my progress on Instagram!   
> https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're interested? Jesse is one of my favorite characters and my heart just aches for the poor guy.
> 
> Drop a kudos or comment if you like it and want to see it finished! Knowing people like it feeds my soul (and my motivation)
> 
> f you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley  
> Keep up with my progress on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/


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